


Growing Up Anderson

by neaf



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Headcanon, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories based around the adolescence of Blaine and Cooper Anderson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thunder and Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> These short stories were written after news leaked that Matt Bomer was cast as Blaine's older brother, but before the episode Big Brother actually aired. As such the Cooper in these short stories does not resemble canon Cooper in many cases.

When Blaine was little, he was scared of storms.

He always loved the rain, the rain was fine - the smell reminded him of when they used to go camping, the strong scent of the earth that bled through the windows and soaked into his bones.

But storms left him rattled, and the thunder shook the house and made his windows tremble with an awful, straining sound, like everything was going to shatter all around him. He was waiting for the impact every time.

So the moment he could feel it coming, he’d slip out of his bed, he’d pad barefoot down the hall and into Cooper’s room.

Cooper didn’t notice anymore, just lifted the blanket and let him crawl under, let him curl against his side and drift to sleep while Coop read his book with a torch. The thunder never bothered him like it did Blaine, and he’d always loved the patterns lightning left behind his eyes when he looked directly at it, when he caught it, if he could.

But then, they were always two sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same storm.

The night that Blaine came out to their parents, Cooper felt it in the air, that prickle of electricity and warning.

But the rain never came, and the thunder was kept inside, too loud and too close and too real. And Blaine was trying so hard to not be that little boy again, to stand still and listen to their father’s voice, to keep his chin up.

_I am not afraid of storms._

By the time they’d all gone to bed, Coop gathered up his book, found his booklight and padded barefoot down the hall to Blaine’s bedroom, just like Blaine had done so may times when they were kids.

Cooper couldn’t hear him crying, but he knew that it was there, like the lightning - he could feel it, hot behind his eyes.

He peeled back the covers and ignored the startled sound, crawled into the other side of Blaine’s bed and pulled him to his side without a word.

Blaine was older now, on his way to being an adult, and it would have been so strange to be pressed against his grown-up brother if it wasn’t just exactly what he needed, if it wasn’t just like coming home.

His voice was wet and broken when he said into Cooper’s shirt, “But there’s no storm.”

Cooper didn’t look down, just curled an arm around his head and helped him rest against his chest, waiting for the soft sobs to stop before he said, “Yes, there is.”


	2. The Game is X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooper cheers Blaine up after a hard day at school, when the bullying starts.

Blaine lets the door swing shut behind him with a clap, lets his boots drag across the carpet as he dumps his bag by the door and shuffles inside, shoulders drawn tight and head cast down as always. At least, of late.

School isn’t getting any easier, not with the taunts and the shoulder-checks in the halls, the way people watch him as he walks by, whispering, the other boys turning as they pass.

He steps into the living room, lost in a sea of his own thoughts when he feels a shot of something cold slap him in the face. What the-?

Cooper freezes, gun held high and eyebrow cocked devilishly. “Head in the game, soldier,” he says.

Blaine blinks numbly at him for a moment, brow drawing tight in confusion before he registers the water pistol in his brother’s hand.

“Cooper wh- _brrk!_ ” He splutters as another shot of water hits him in the mouth.

“Think fast, kid,” Cooper says. “Your weapon is in the coat rack to your left, the game is X, you get an X on my shirt, you win, and vice versa, you ready?”

Blaine eyes him for a moment, gaze slipping quickly to the water rifle Coop left him. A small, wicked smile curls the edge of his mouth.

“You have thirty seconds,” Coop intones seriously, his smoothest secret agent impersonation. He throws both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Unless you don’t think you can take me.”

Blaine’s eyes flash for a moment, and he flexes his fingers at his side. In a rush, his hand darts out, drawing the rifle and giving mad chase after his brother, the two of them tearing through the living room and down the long hallway to the back of the house.

“Thank god you got short legs, B!” Cooper calls back through laughter. “Or this might actually be difficult!”


	3. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Sadie Hawkins incident, Cooper waits.

Cooper sits, and he waits.

He’s fine, in the white halls of the hospital, his face is clear and bright and focused, he can listen to the doctors, he can take in every last piece of information. Every bruise and every broken bone, read out like a shopping list. He can take it.

Go home, they say.

He says no so many times the word stops sounding like a word.

It’s four in the morning when he does go home.

The surgery was successful. He’s in recovery, he won’t wake up for awhile.

And Cooper thinks, he needs things.

He needs things, he needs clothes and shoes because he’s going to be walking around soon. So Cooper goes home, because Blaine needs things. He needs his toothbrush and jumpers, needs his iPod and his stupid fucking hair gel.

And that’s when Cooper breaks.

Because just like every other moment of his life, Cooper was always just a minute too late.


	4. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine wakes up in hospital.

When Blaine wakes up, Cooper is asleep.

Coop only knows Blaine’s awake because there’s fingers in his hair, knuckles dragging over his forehead in little, needy jerks. _Wake up._

He lifts his head off the hospital bed and blinks stupidly as his brain jolts into consciousness. His neck hurts, his back aches, and he winces into the sharp white overhead light before he remembers where he is.

And there’s Blaine.

His eyes are barely open, the tube’s still in his nose. But he’s smiling, that tiny curve of his mouth. The smug little _told you so._

Blaine Anderson could survive anything. That’s what Andersons do.

“Hey,” Coop says, plain as if he were picking him up from school.

“Hey,” Blaine croaks, eyelashes dipping once, and then again.

They don’t talk much the rest of the day, they just look. Cooper is just happy to see his eyes again.

A few days later he shows up, like he does every morning, with coffee and a smirk. Blaine watches while he slide-steps in the door, grabs Blaine’s bag, pulls out this and that.

“What are you doing?”

Cooper draws up a seat and smiles. “It’s time for a very important lesson in personal hygiene.”

“Oh god, Coop, no,” Blaine laughs, and winces, and laughs again to prove that he can.

“If you have any objections, you’re free to walk out,” Cooper adds, and lifts a taunting eyebrow while his brother glares in amusement.

“Now this,” Cooper says, rummaging through the bag. “Is what we call a razor. When you’re all grown up and have curlies on your manparts, you get to start using one of these bad boys on your face, too. It’s like a magical curse of body hair.”

“Cooper, stop it,” Blaine laughs, eyes falling shut.

“Now your five o’clock shadow has become high noon,” Cooper says, waving a hand at his brother’s face, “so I’m just assuming nobody’s taught you these things.”

“I was in a medical coma,” Blaine croaks, eyes bright and smiling.

“Excuses, excuses,” he says. “You’re an Anderson. And therefore expected to shave. Forever. No excuses.”

“Uhuh,” Blaine says, trying to shift in bed while Cooper gets the shaving brush ready and pulls out a bowl for the water.

“In fact, I’m pretty sure the Anderson Family Crypt has plumbing,” he adds, getting his seat close enough to reach over his brother comfortably. “And little shaving mirrors. On extendable arms.”

Blaine’s moving too much, laughing and shaking his head, and Cooper has to use his fingers to hold his chin still while he brushes on the foam.

Blaine sighs quietly, flinching from the pain, but still smiling.

“Coop, I-“

“I know,” he says quickly, cutting him off. He doesn’t meet his eyes, just keeps working, dragging in smooth lines and guiding Blaine’s chin up with his fingers.

Blaine’s voice is very soft, and rough, almost a whisper. “We never say _I love you._ ”

“Pretty sure those words aren’t in the Anderson vocabulary,” Cooper adds dryly.

He lets out a soft puff of breath in acknowledgment, trying to hold still.

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” Coop finally says after a long pause.

Blaine’s head is tipped the other way, but Coop can see the way his eyes shift. ”And I shouldn’t have to either.”

Blaine smiles softly, hands twitching in his lap, before he closes his eyes. “You don’t.”


	5. Fight Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sadie Hawkins, Blaine doesn't know how to survive. Cooper shows him.

Blaine was tired.

He was always tired, these days, and quiet. He didn’t talk. He didn’t sing. Not since it happened.

Even when he’d come home, there was just another weight thrown on him. Just more fear. Cooper would never forget the look on their father’s face when Blaine asked him what to do now, what he had to do to get past this.

 _Fight back,_ their father said, with so much disinterest it made Cooper want to burn the house to the ground.

And Blaine had looked so small. So afraid.

But now, Blaine was just tired. He was quiet like Blaine was never supposed to be quiet, slinking home from school, sullen and kicking his feet on the gravel leading up to the house.

Their parents weren’t home that day. Cooper knew he had time.

He met Blaine at the door, face calm and unreadable, holding the heavy metal in both hands.

Blaine didn’t see him at first, just kept walking, head down, feet scraping the ground until he caught sight of polished shoes in his peripheral vision. He looked up.

Cooper stared at him, unmoving, waiting for a response.

“Coop, why do you have-“

“Enough!”

Blaine blinked in surprise, jolting at the force of his brother’s voice. Cooper never yelled. Cooper never wore a suit, either, not like the one he was wearing. He looked like their dad. He looked like a teacher, or a lawyer or something, not like Cooper.

He was holding the antique bronze shield that had been mounted over their fireplace for as long as Blaine could remember. In the other hand he had the matching sword, thick and heavy, and brighter now that Blaine could see it in sunlight.

Blaine narrowed his eyes, mouth lifting in confusion as Cooper offered the sword.

“Take it.”

He stared at it for a moment, baffled and trying to understand what was going on.

“TAKE IT!” Cooper roared, and Blaine jolted violently, scrambling to drop his bag and take the hilt.

His hands were shaking when Cooper moved across the driveway, obscured from the street by the tall trees that bordered the house.

When Cooper lifted the shield, Blaine swallowed audibly, eyes flashing in fear.

“Hit me,” Cooper said firmly. “Don’t hold back.”

“Coop, we’ll get in trouble, these are dad’s-“

“I’ll deal with that, just hit me.” Cooper’s face was dark, still calm, but there was something bigger underneath it all that Blaine couldn’t place.

It frightened him.

But he didn’t know, it was meant to.

He swung weakly with one hand, letting the sword tap Cooper’s shield with a hollow clang! just to see how it felt.

“Do it properly!” Cooper demanded, voice sharp and loud, and instantly far too reminiscent of another.

Blaine flinched, swatting harder at the shield with a tiny thrash.

“Blaine,” Cooper warned. “HIT ME.”

“FINE,” Blaine screamed, seizing the sword in both hands and swinging wildly, letting the blows clatter in waves of brutal, crashing thunder on the shield as he advanced.

Fencing was hard, Blaine had learned. Fencing required control, and he’d been doing so well so far at Dalton. But in this moment, in this fleeting second, every ounce of his control fled.

He screamed again as he twisted, thrashing and meeting Cooper’s shield over and over, letting the echo of metal on metal fuel him on until his arms burned and his spine ached from the reverberations that traveled down his entire body.

He didn’t realise he was crying until he hit the gravel, sword clattering by his side, shoulders shaking heavily with violent sobs.

Cooper threw the shield on the ground carelessly, kicking it away before he sank down to his knees and drew his little brother into his arms, letting him gather fistfuls of their father’s suit.

Holding Blaine was easy. It was a rush of relief after the act, the game he played to get it out of him. To keep him safe. To make sure he didn’t take their father’s pathetic excuse for advice.

“D-don’t make me d-do it,” Blaine sobbed.

“You just did,” Coop said softly, pushing fingers through his brother’s curls. “You just did.”


	6. Tall Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Cooper met Kurt, Version 1.

When Cooper comes back into town, there isn’t so much as a warning call. In retrospect, Blaine decides, there should be sirens.

But there weren’t this time, one day he’s just there, hovering over the couch in the Principal’s office when Blaine gets called in.

Blaine’s first thoughts go straight to his mother and father, and he panics. He asks what happened before he’s even through the glass doors, but then there’s Cooper’s face, drawn in melodramatic sadness.

When Principal Figgins tells Blaine his grandmother has passed, Blaine’s face falls. But it’s not grief. It’s the usual quick rush of frustration and disbelief that happens whenever his brother is in proximity.

He squeezes his eyes tight shut and tells himself this isn’t happening, Oh god, Cooper, what are you doing? You can’t just lie to people like that, grandma died eight years ago, not this morning, damn it, _Cooper._

But he doesn’t say anything out loud, he just gives Figgins an embarrassed look. Somehow it passes as believable grief or shock, because Figgins is nodding in sympathy and letting Blaine’s brother lead him out the door.

“Cooper!” Blaine hisses when they’re far enough away, but he doesn’t get answer, just impossibly strong hands dragging him along a little too fast towards the parking lot.

“Cooper!” he growls again, voice poorly hushed and violent against the quiet hallway until they’re out in the open, and he finally manages to find his balance and untangle his other arm from his bag to grope in the air at his brother. “STOP!”

Coop turns on his heel, face bright and smiling as he lets go and splays his hands in presentation. “Didja miss me?”

Blaine’s entire frame sags, because he can’t say no.

“Coop, you can’t just drag me out of class, I have finals coming up.”

Cooper pouts, pushing both hands into his pockets and rocking on his feet.

Rolling his eyes, Blaine sways a little. “Yes, fine. I missed you.”

The grin is back faster than lightning, and Cooper pulls out his car keys. “Come on, B.”

“Where are we going?” Blaine asks, a little incredulous.

“Strip joint,” Cooper says seriously, and his nose scrunches in delight at the look on Blaine’s face. “I’m kidding. Coffee. Of course we’re going for coffee, jesus, calm down.”

“Do mom and dad know you’re back?” Blaine asks, but Cooper ignores him, turning and striding off into the parking lot.

“That’s a no, then,” Blaine says, and follows with a sigh, eyes narrowing at the BMW lights that flash when Cooper presses the button on his key.

“Another car, Coop? What happened to the Lexus?”

Cooper swings open the passenger door. “There was an incident with a fire hose and clown, I’d rather not go into it, the grief is,” he sniffs, “still fresh.”

Blaine’s eyes fall shut and he huffs out a laugh, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“In,” Coop commands, leaving the door open and sliding around to the driver’s side.

By the time they’re on the road, speeding away to the Lima Bean, Blaine’s forgotten about the lies and the classes he’s missing. He can’t help the grin that spreads from ear to ear as he listens to Cooper tell endless, rolling stories about his latest misadventures in Europe, mouth falling open in disbelief at the addition of _let’s not tell mom and dad about the deportation just yet, mmkay?_

Blaine’s been sitting in the Lima Bean, listening to tales and drinking coffee after coffee for nearly two hours by the time the subject finally comes round to him, and Cooper’s grin turns wolfish.

“So,” he says, voice loaded with intent, and Blaine can feel it coming like a freight train. “How many notches are we talking since I last saw you? How long is the road of beautiful, broken-hearted boys?”

Blaine’s mouth stutters around an objection, flustered and caught between closing his eyes an rolling them again. The blush rises in his cheeks too fast, and he hates it, he hates how much Cooper loves it when he makes him go red.

He can’t quite open his mouth to say it, just fiddles with his coffee cup, oblivious to the stupid smile on his face.

But Coop sees it, and he knows right away.

“Well, shit, little brother,” he rocks back in his chair, lifting his coffee to sip. “When did you fall in love?”

Blaine huffs out a laugh, and he can’t quite look up, because he can still feel the heat in his face. “We’ve… been together a year,” he says softly. “His name is Kurt, and I … he’s…”

“Damn,” Cooper says, impressed. “He’s got you good.”

When Blaine finally glances up he catches it instantly, the one thing he was dreading - that glint of mischief in Cooper’s eyes, hovering over the rip of a paper coffee cup.

“Cooper,” he says, voice low and warning. “ _Don’t._ ”

Resting his cup on the table, Cooper gives him a sugary sweet smile. “I’m not gonna do anything,” he swears innocently. “You can, you know. Introduce us on your own time. I can wait.”

Blaine has never said the words _you are full of shit_ in his life, but he thinks them every five minutes when Cooper is around. Fondly, of course.

“But you need to loosen up a little,” Coop insists, shifting in his seat. “And you know what that means.”

“Coop. _No_ ,” Blaine says immediately, eyes wide and hand pawing at the table.

“It’s time for my very favorite game of Blushing Blainers,” he announces with a teasing grin, moving to scan around the room.

“Cooper, stop it, it’s - that’s-“

Coop spots a boy too quickly. “Oh, he’s cute. Come on, Blaine, look.” He taps the table, but Blaine keeps his head down. “Blaineeee. Look. Six o’clock-no - make that seven. LOOK.”

And Blaine can’t help it, he looks.

The boy isn’t bad looking, by any means, but Blaine finds himself sitting still and just blinking as he watches him walk out the door. The heat doesn’t flood his face, and for once he sits back with a slightly victorious look.

Cooper eyes him for a moment, keeps watching him carefully, waiting. His eyes narrow when the blush doesn’t come (he was _sure_ that kid was cute). But there’s nothing.

He shifts his jaw and looks around again, determined, and Blaine sighs.

Three guys later with no victories, and Coop is wondering if Blaine had some kind of de-blushing operation when he sees a boy walk in and he freezes. The smirk that drifts over Cooper’s face is unstoppable, and gaze falls to his brother.

“One more,” he says, because he knows he’s got him, this time.

Coop points with his eyes, and Blaine shifts in his seat to watch the boy collect his coffee. He can’t stop the blush, can’t stop the way his heart picks up a little and the warmth washes over him, along with a slight rush of panic.

“Yes!” Cooper hisses and rocks back in his seat, throwing the balled up paper from his straw at his brother and squeezing his fist tight in the air in victory.

Blaine laughs, shaking his head as he turns back around.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Coop says. “I knew he’d get you.”

Blaine’s gaze falls to his own fidgeting hand on the table, twisting his empty coffee cup in restless circles.

“You know,” Coop says, perching on an elbow to gloat. “You two could fall _madly_ in bed together. If he wasn’t out of your league.”

Blaine’s brow shoots up, and he tilts his head in surprise. “Really?”

Cooper shoots him a short look of _oh, please._ “Come on, B. You’re cute and all, but seriously. That kid looks like he walked off a runway.”

Blaine doesn’t even flinch when the chair next to them draws out with a long drag of wood on tile, but Coop jerks to attention, shocked into silence as the beautiful boy from the counter drops down beside his brother.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he says, voice high and lyrical, and just a little sharp.

Coop watches, stunned, while the boy coils both his arms tight around one of Blaine’s and practically sets up house there, head resting on his shoulder, eyes fixing Cooper with a cold, defiant stare under a carefully placed smile.

When Coop looks to his brother, it all sinks in, and he can’t believe how proud he is of the giant, filthy smirk on Blaine’s face right now.

He drops his head for a moment to let out a quiet laugh, grinning from ear to ear as he turns and holds out his hand.

“I’m Cooper, Blaine’s brother,” he says. “You must be Kurt.”


	7. Other Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Cooper met Kurt, Version 2.

Kurt loved saturday nights.

Friday nights were nice, too; the school week was over, and family dinner was usually a welcome comfort to bookend the monotony of school. But there was homework, and chores, and everything else that still lingered before he went to bed.

But saturday nights? 

Saturday nights were theirs.

He still hadn’t met Blaine’s parents. It seemed no matter what was happening in Blaine’s life, they were always somewhere else come saturday evening. 

_Gala, dear, sorry._

or

_There’s a benefit, we’d make it if we could._

Blaine seemed used to it, seemed nonchalant about the hollow, silent space in his big empty house. Kurt worried about him, sometimes, but he’d never say it out loud. _Are you sure you’re okay? You’re always alone when I’m not here._

Blaine didn’t seem to mind.

The only real tell Kurt had was the state of him whenever he showed up on Blaine’s front porch. The door would swing open before he could even knock, and there would be Blaine; all too giddy and bouncing on his toes, eager and beaming and excited to see him, even after all this time.

The night usually went the same way, movies in the lounge room, curled up together on the couch with popcorn, the whole lead-up laced with playful stolen glances until they both stopped pretending to watch the movie and scrambled upstairs.

God, Kurt loved saturday nights.

But this particular saturday night, things weren’t quite going to plan.

They’d made it through the first half of the movie before things had grown too tense, a little too jumpy with too many high, straining violins, and suddenly Kurt was burying his face in his boyfriend’s shirt while Blaine chuckled and held on to him, body shaking with barely repressed silent laughter. 

“Stop it,” he hissed. “It’s not funny.”

“Kurt, it’s okay if you’re scared,” Blaine whispered, pressing a swift kiss to his temple. “Look, hey, I can fast forward?”

“Yes,” Kurt instructed firmly without looking up. “Do.”

Laughing, Blaine reached over for the remote, pawing at it clumsily before it fell to the floor and popped open, batteries scattering across the floorboards. “Oops.”

Kurt sighed. “You’re kidding?”

“No, sorry,” Blaine said, shifting and easing his boyfriend off him to locate the renegade power supply. “I’ll fix it.”

“Urgh,” Kurt slumped back onto the couch, burying his face in the cushion just as a shrill scream echoed from the TV. “Can you pause it?”

“Oop! Yes-” Blaine shuffled on his knees across the floor, reaching out to smack the pause button on the DVD player.

When he turned around again he caught sight of Kurt, curled sweetly and still, with his face back against the couch cushions, graceful as a cat. Blaine dropped back on his thighs, staring for a moment, a tiny, appreciative look on his face as his gaze lingered over the curve of his boyfriend’s ass.

“What’s happening?” Kurt asked, voice muffled by the cushions. 

When he heard Blaine chuckle, he peeked out carefully.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Blaine said sweetly, shuffling across the floor and reaching out.

Kurt blushed, trying for a scowl as Blaine’s arms slipped around his waist, turning him around so they faced each other. “It’s not funny.”

“Did I say funny? I think I said adorable,” Blaine insisted, pulling Kurt forward on the couch and closer to him. He craned his neck up to meet Kurt’s mouth in a soft kiss, revelling in the feel of long, cool fingers brushing over his cheek.

He dipped his head, nuzzling against Kurt’s chest and down to his stomach, pushing up the edges of his sweater with both hands to nip along his hipbones as Kurt rocked back. “Oh.”

“Mmm,” Blaine hummed, mouthing over the soft skin and pressing his warm fingers into muscle. “Can we just- stay-“

“Down here? OH!” Kurt’s voice cut off with a high, breathy sound as Blaine’s fingers worked their way around his body, sliding down the back of his jeans.

The rumble of a passing car grew closer and closer, until the sound of it seemed to shake the windows gently, and Blaine realised that whoever it was hadn’t driven past, but stopped.

“Is that-?” he rocked back, holding very still to listen for a car door. 

Kurt blinked at him, frozen to the spot. “Is someone home?” he whispered.

Blaine shook his head sharply, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t hear a door. It could be the neighbours?”

“It sounded like a motorcycle.” Kurt said, narrowing his eyes.

Blaine held very, very still for a moment before Kurt’s words registered. His eyes grew wide in an instant, and his mouth fell open at the sound of boots on gravel.

“What is it?” Kurt asked as Blaine scrambled to his feet.

“Bad. Very bad. Very not good. Oh god.”

The sound of the front door rattling and swinging open was muffled under the booming baritone of a singing voice. 

“He’s a champ! A chum! 

He’s pocket-size for fun! 

Andersooooooon!”

“ _Ohdeargodpleaseno_ ,” Blaine whispered, eyes falling shut.

Kurt muffled his laughter under his palm, twisting on the couch to find a tall, stunning man, (holy CRAP) standing in the archway of the living room.

Blaine’s shoulders slumped. “Cooper.”

Kurt’s gaze snapped back to him quickly. “Your brother?”

“B!” Coop called brightly as he came into the room, stepping around the couch to seize his little brother in a hug. “I missed you, kid!”

“I - uh-” Blaine was helpless in his brother’s arms, red-faced and looking like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

 _Why is he so embarrassed?_ Kurt eyed him carefully. Something was going on.

“C-Coop why are you- what’s up?” Blaine stammered as Cooper let him go, burying both hands in his pockets.

Cooper eyed him for a moment, still grinning devilishly. “In town for the week, wanted to catch up,” he said, turning to face Kurt. “But apparently I’ve interrupted something?”

“Cooper-” Blaine warned.

“I’m Kurt,” he said, rocking forward on the couch and offering his hand.

“Yes, yes you are.” Cooper’s eyes were bright and mischievous, shimmering slightly in the light cast by the Andersons’ gaudy chandelier.

“Ohh-kay,” Blaine said slowly, gripping his brother’s shoulders and trying to walk him out of the room. 

Cooper leaned back heavily as he was pushed out, making Blaine grunt with the effort while he kept staring at Kurt, eyebrow cocked and smile wide.

Kurt felt himself blush, and rubbed self-consciously at his neck. Okay, now he understood the embarrassment. Cooper certainly wasn’t subtle.

“You can - go - and find somewhere else to be for the night. Just one night, please, Coop,” Blaine begged in hushed tones.

Kurt tried not to eavesdrop for about half a second before he gave in and scooted back on the couch, craning to listen to the brothers bickering quietly in the hallway.

“He’s my boyfriend!”

“So then it’s a compliment!”

“Calling my boyfriend a sex kitten is _not_ a compliment!”

Kurt snorted into his palm.

“He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“COOPER!”

“Fine,” Cooper said at full volume, and paused before he called out; “Nice to meet you, Kurt.”

“Likewise,” Kurt said around muffled giggles.

“I’ll let Blaine get back to his… floor exercises.”

“I was looking for batteries!”

“Why the hell do you need batteries with him on the couch?”

“COOPER!”

“Going! I’m going. Careful when you get back down there kid, you’re already short enough but on your knees you just about disappear.”

There was a loud whacking noise that sounded a lot like someone slapping violently at a leather jacket, followed by a deep chuckle.

“I’m sure Kurt doesn’t mind watching you, you know, look for batteries.”

“I swear to god-“

“Careful about rug burn,” Cooper warned seriously, and Kurt could hear his barely contained glee.

More slapping noises and the squeak of shoes on floorboards followed, and Kurt craned his neck again, teetering over the edge of the couch to watch Blaine and his brother grapple and struggle in the entryway. Cooper was laughing, leaning his whole body weight back against Blaine and refusing to be forced down the hall.

“You really shouldn’t be on the floor anyway, B, you could get stuck under the couch and then where would you be?”

“OUT!” Blaine demanded with one final shove, and Kurt rocked back with the force of his silent giggles as Cooper’s singing voice echoed down the hall.

“He’s a charmer! A tease! He’s cuter on his knees! Anderso-”

“COOPER!”

Kurt glanced over the edge of the pillow he’d hugged to his face to muffle his laughter, watching Blaine as he slinked back into the living room and dropped down in a slump on the couch.

Shifting closer, Kurt rubbed at his boyfriend’s arm soothingly, and Blaine buried his red face in both hands.

“You know, some days I think I’m really lucky,” he muttered into his palms.

Kurt tilted his head, still smiling. “And other days?”

“Other days I think: why did my brother have to happen to _me?_ ”


	8. Namesake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one future fic in this set of short stories. Kurt and Blaine are together, and working in New York. This time, it's Cooper who needs rescuing.

When Blaine gets home, he pries his tie away from his neck slowly and staggers down the hall. It’s been a long day, with too many interviews, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to get out of the ridiculous, stifling business suit he’d reserved for job interviews and jury duty.

Well, he does want one thing more, he wants Kurt - curled up on the lounge with him, snuggling sleepily and exchanging soft kisses and body heat. But that’s the one thing he can’t have right now, not while Kurt’s on tour with the company, and their exchanges are reduced to text messages and late night phone calls filled with _I miss you, I love you, I need you._

He has Cooper, though, to keep him company - he’d agreed to visit, and proved a saving grace in the middle of the madness and an otherwise miserably lonely span of weeks.

What he doesn’t expect, when he gets to the living room, is to find him slumped on the floor, pressed against the wall and mostly drunk.

He blinks. “Coop?”

Cooper doesn’t look up, just wobbles a little - which is quite a feat for someone sitting down. He opens his mouth and closes it, staring at the floor.

“What happened, Coop?”

“Andrea called,” he mumbles. 

Blaine sighs in sympathy, eyeing his brother carefully and wandering over to drop and sit by his side on the floor.

“Did she say anything?”

“She wants her stuff back,” Coop utters quietly, blinking back moisture. “She’s really muh-movin,” he tries to get the words out and pauses for a moment to get his mouth under control, “moving on.”

Blaine reaches out and rubs his arm. “I’m sorry, Coop.”

“S’fine,” he says, taking another swig of his bottle. “I knew it was over. I just thought.”

“I know,” Blaine offers softly, feeling all at once utterly helpless. “You want to watch a movie?”

“No,” Cooper says, shaking his head melodramatically. Blaine can’t help but liken him to a muppet.

“You wanna go to bed?” Blaine asks gently, and Cooper nods just as comically.

Reaching out, Blaine drops a hand firmly on his brother’s head, just a fast burst of affection, a reminder that he’s right there - he always will be right there, when Cooper wants to talk.

He helps him off the floor and to the guest room, arms wrapped around his waist as they stumble. Cooper starts to giggle before Blaine drops him onto the mattress gracelessly, and smiles. “You’re an idiot.”

“You love me anyway,” Cooper slurs, rolling over and starfishing across the bed, face buried in a pillow.

The next day, Cooper is limp and half-alive, curled around his coffee mug and perched on a stool at the kitchen counter like he’s a freezing man gathered by a fire. He’s fairly sure his liver divorced him at some point during the evening and he’s left with a grating hollow pain that’s somehow blunt and sharp and too bright all at the same time.

When Blaine comes through the front door, it’s too loud, and too soon, and too much.

“How you feelin?” he asks, and why is he smiling? Cooper hates smiles. And sunshine. And everything.

“I hate everything,” Cooper moans into his mug, voice gravelly and drawn out.

Blaine chuckles at him.

“Shut up, stop laughing and kill me,” Cooper grumbles, and wonders if he can get away with lapping at his coffee instead of having to go to all the trouble to pick up the mug because it just looks so damn heavy.

“I got you something,” Blaine says with a tint to his voice, something sneaky and loaded.

Cooper blinks at him from under heavy brows. “Is it a new liver?”

“No, better,” Blaine says, and Cooper realises he’s wrangling something behind his back. Something moving.

“Wh- what?”

Blaine brings it around in front of him, a bundle of soft golden fluff with giant, bright eyes and an innocent little face. It yawns at him, a huge span of pink puppy mouth, before it makes a little squeak and cocks its head.

“OOOHHH MY GOD!” he almost falls off his chair, reaching out with grabbyhands to take the puppy from his brother. “WHO IS THIS?”

“That’s up to you,” Blaine says, burying his hands in both pockets and watching Cooper suddenly spring to life with delight. “He’s yours, if you want him. One of the neighbours had a litter.”

“He’s a he? He’s a he. OH!” Cooper checked underneath the puppy quickly. “Yep, definitely a he. Okay, names.” He turns around and plonks back on his stool, still a little grey around the eyes, but so much alive and so much more like Cooper than Blaine has seen him in a long time.

Cooper returns to his coffee, puppy tucked neatly under one arm.

“How abooouut,” he tilts his head back and forth, rubbing the puppy’s belly. “Ignatious?”

The puppy yaps once, wriggling so his entire bottom wiggles with his tail.

“No, okay, that’s a little on the nose,” Cooper agrees, and Blaine slides around to the other side of the counter to pour himself his own mug of coffee while he listens to the exchange.

“What about Evenrude?”

Another yap.

“Fine, okay, if you insist on being difficult.”

Blaine is grinning from ear to ear, he can feel his face is almost sore with it until the grin drops away at Cooper’s teasing voice.

“I know, how about _Devon_?”

Blaine spins. “Don’t you dare!”

Cooper is smirking, now. “We can call you Devon,” Cooper tells the puppy, eyes fixed on his brother. “It can be a namesake.”

“Cooper-” Blaine warns.

The puppy cranes up and licks at Cooper’s chin happily, rubbing its face all over his shirt in delight.

“Looks like we have a winner!” Cooper announces grandly, and Blaine sags, laughing.

“I hate you.”

“That’s okay Devon,” Coop tells him. “I stopped calling you that years ago. The puppy gets it now.”

“You live to torture me, don’t you?” Blaine asks amusedly, and Cooper just shrugs at him.

Gathering his coffee, Blaine reaches out to ruffle the puppy’s fur for a moment before he does the same thing to his brother’s hair and parts with a tiny, affectionate shove.

He knows Kurt’s probably going to kill him for having a dog in the apartment, but it’s worth it. It’s more than worth it, because Cooper has been falling apart, Cooper has been broken - and it’s been so long since it felt like there was anything Blaine could do about it.

It’s not till later that day, when he finds Cooper on the floor by the kitchen, cheek to the floorboards, watching Devon sleep, that Blaine realises that everything might just turn out okay, after all.


End file.
